


Dress Up Games

by chamsie



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Crossdressing, Dick FINALLY shows up!, Established Relationship, Jason demanded his time, M/M, Why did I write more, a bit of swearing but nothing most ppl haven't alr seen, but this is still BruDick, hence the addition of the BruJay tag, which resulted in a lot of hang ups
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamsie/pseuds/chamsie
Summary: Bruce looked good. Like, scarily good. He didn’t look as good as Tim (no one ever did), but being second best at crossdressing was a feat considering the remaining contestants included Dick Grayson age twelve and Jason Todd age fourteen.Part 3: There's Finally Some Dick(All chapters have received minor edits!  Hoping chp 4 is done soon)





	1. Looking Scarily Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce looked good. Like, scarily good. Granted, he didn’t look as good as Tim (no one did), but being second best at this was a feat considering the remaining contestants included Dick Grayson age twelve and Jason Todd age fourteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed an emerging trend. No, you’re not imagining it. De-aged/younger Bruce appears to be a kink of mine and I am so far beyond embarrassed that I have reached enlightenment and zen.
> 
> I smacked this out in about an hour when I should be doing an essay. I have fallen deep.

The eyeliner went on smoothly (smudged by some tissue and a finger for a smokey look) - turning blue eyes even bluer and making them appear darker. Coupled with shimmery blue eyeshadow, an unspoken sensual intent underlined every glance. He’d picked up some skills in this over the years, but it was Barbara, Stephanie, and Tim’s advice that allowed him to pull this off.

 

“Bruce, are you sure?” Tim asked again, voice drifting over from behind the curtain of the change-slash-disguise area.  

 

“Of course.” Bruce replied instantly. There had been no hesitance the moment he’d known Dick was missing. He would sacrifice far more than this for the man. A tube of mascara was next, and after careful application... _perfect_. Lashes that long and dark screamed alluring and sexy, with just a hint of edginess that attracted the dangerous crowd like moths to a flame.

 

Damian’s voice stammered, “Father, I could -”

 

Bruce cut him off curtly. “Don’t offer what you can’t see through.”

 

He rooted through the assortments of lipstick in the right drawer before settling on a bright red tube - Robin red. It would be a good focal point to draw the eyes in.

 

When Bruce stepped out from behind the curtain, Damian choked on air and Tim’s brain broke.

 

Bruce looked _good_. Like, scarily good. Granted, he didn’t look as good as Tim (no one ever did), but being second best at this - at crossdressing - was a feat considering the remaining contestants included Dick Grayson age twelve and Jason Todd age fourteen.  Bruce had always drawn in the pretty ones, even if unintentionally with his Robins.

 

The black dress he’d chosen for tonight’s stint cut off high up his thighs, putting on display milky legs that seemed to stretch on forever before disappearing into the snug embrace of a snappy pair of high heeled ankle boots. Those things looked to be six inches and must be killer on Bruce’s feet, probably already were. Tim would have questioned their reliability in a flight or fight scenario if he hadn’t seen Stephanie at the bar and if he himself hadn’t had to wear the fire engine red twelve-inchers still tucked in the back of his closet. If trained, one could do many things with a heel, and another glance at Bruce’s feet confirmed the heel portions were stainless steel. He must have used foundation and the HD powder because his legs had _not_ looked that flawless and shimmery earlier - and Tim was going to beat his head in with his staff because he was admiring _Bruce’s_ _legs. With Damian in the room_. Something felt inherently wrong about that or at least icky. Demon Spawn was right there.

 

A satin clutch was held comfortably in Bruce’s right hand and a string of white pearls hid an old scar curled at the base of his neck. That scar had been a surprise. Tim had assumed most of the large marks littered across Bruce’s body were attained from being Batman, but it seemed the neck scar was from Bruce’s early youth. At least Bruce had it before he was fifteen, which was approximately how old they’d guessed him to physically be at the moment. There was a story there, but no one had asked about it yet.

 

Layered extensions completed the look, and no one not looking _very_ closely would realize Bruce was a teenage boy and not the teenage girl he’d dressed up to be.  

 

“Is Jason ready?” Bruce asked.

 

Jason was Bruce’s escort for the night. They were playing their respective roles of bar-scene regular and underage sister. If asked, ‘Cathy’ would tell anyone with ears she was legal (an obvious lie, but that was a boon where they were headed) and looking for her elder brother Jay. Dick had gone missing while investigating a small time drug trafficker three days ago. They assumed he was missing because Dick hadn’t checked in like he’d promised to.  Worried, Damian and Tim had followed Dick’s investigative trail to the _Split-tailed Swallow_ , an obscure high class club in some back alley of Blϋdhaven that catered to a specific clientele - a clientele that was particularly enamoured with young, vulnerable females.

 

Bruce had arrived back to the cave earlier that day in an oversized hoodie and the Batsuit tucked into a backpack on his shoulder. Whatever had happened in Los Angeles, only Batman, Green Arrow, Aquaman, and Plastic Man knew. The fact he’d lost decades off his body did little to deter him, and he’d soon jumped in and orchestrated an infiltration-and-possible-retrieval mission with himself at the center.

 

“Jason’s on the way. ETA five minutes,” Tim answered.

 

Bruce nodded in acknowledgement, and quickly checked his clutch. Pepper spray Bat-lipstick, check. Portable chemistry-lab-in-a-tissue-pack, check. The micro-camera in the clutch’s clasp was secure and a touch to his ear confirmed the sleeping gas in his earrings was primed as well. Lastly, he fingered the hidden pocket of his clutch, felt the familiar outline of a fun-size Hershey bar he’d been saving since Halloween, and decided that he was ready.

 

Damian finally managed to reboot his brain.

 

“Father, this is madness! You’ve been de-aged for less than twelve hours. We don’t know when _this_ -” He made a wide gesture at Bruce’s entire body “- will be resolved or if there are any side effects.” Tim nodded along the whole time, the two agreeing completely for once.

 

Bruce pursed his lips as he contemplated an answer. With the red lipstick, the expression was dangerously pouty and Tim resolved to not think about it too hard lest he become like Damian, who’d turned away and couldn’t look his father in the eye without flushing.  

 

“There’s no choice,” Bruce finally answered.  “Tim’s arm is still healing from his break last week and Damian, you aren’t prepared for a mission of this nature while I am coincidentally able to play the part of a pubescent female.”  

 

Tim slumped at the reminder of why he hadn’t been the one to dress up.  Not that he particularly wanted to, but seeing Bruce do it (and so well) was mind-bending in ways he did not need to see.  Ever.  And he was legitimately concerned about Bruce’s current condition.  As Damian had said, they didn’t know when it would wear off, if it would.  Maybe Batman did, but he wasn’t providing answers any time soon.  

 

Damian tried again, “We could wait a day or so and send in Drake instead.”  

Bruce smiled gently at that - which was still _so weird_ when Bruce looked like the newest sister in their family - and shook his head. “Damian, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how time-sensitive the intel you brought in is. We do this tonight, or we don’t get another chance.”

 

Defeated for now, Damian backed down, scowling deeply.

 

“Jason will be here any moment. You remember what to do?” Bruce asked.

 

“Yes, Father.” “Yeah, Bruce.” Tim and Damian answered at the same time.  They’d already gone over the plan several times with Bruce before he’d gone to transform himself into ‘Cathy’.  

 

Satisfied, Bruce nodded in acknowledgement and walked past them towards the Batcave’s exit where the cars and bikes were stored, heels clicking rhythmically against the tiles. It gave Tim and Damian a good view of his backside. No wonder he’d chosen this dress in particular. The scooped back showed off a huge expanse of smooth skin, just as pale as Bruce’s thighs, but it was the two wing-shaped straps folded over delicate looking shoulders which clinched it. _It’s a Nightwing-themed dress_ , Tim thought dazedly. Not in an obvious way, but a blue shimmer along the hem and feathers of the wing-straps matched nicely with Dick’s suit. In the cold illumination of the cave, Bruce seemed almost to glow, his slim, teenage body lending weight to the clearly nymph-like image he’d cultivated for the operation.

 

A sinking feeling in Tim’s gut told him he shouldn’t ask, but at the same time curiosity got the better of him and he had to know. “Bruce, are you going to save Dick or _seduce_ him?”

 

Damian had long passed any point of coherency and simply stood nearby, sputtering helplessly and slowly flushing from embarrassment, anger, or both. Tim wasn’t sure, but both seemed the best bet. He was actually feeling kind of sorry for the kid.

  
Bruce simply glanced back over his shoulder at them, the stretch doing some amazing things to his ass and thighs (fuck, Tim was going to need major counseling after this), and smiled coyly. The image he made left little doubt in Tim’s mind that Dick stood _no chance_ the moment he saw Bruce. He affected a falsetto for his answer. “Can’t it be both?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Tim and Damian had trouble seeing Bruce like this, think about Jason.  
> [Here's the dress Bruce wore](https://d1cr7zfsu1b8qs.cloudfront.net/pimg/o/335519.jpg)
> 
> (Dick Grayson age twelve is a little nod to one of my favourite authors)


	2. Jason't Turn, but Dick's still MIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce merely smirked in teply, and Jason could have gone his whole life without ever knowing that Brucie's playboy smirk was tranferable on a teenage girl's face. That was the kind of thing that would haunt him for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might regret this chapter for various reasons. It's yet to be seen.  
> Jason demanded his time and he had a lot to say. Hence the added relationship tag.
> 
> Also had to change the Split-Tailed Swallow into a club. I'm not well acquainted with drinking and nightlife culture, sorry!

Jason’s involvement had been a complete last minute decision.  A text from Bruce had come late afternoon and after some deliberation, some pretending to check his calendar, he’d grudgingly given in if only to gain access to the _Split-Tailed Swallow_ . Some of the Hood’s riff-raff had connections there and any extra info he could pick up outweighed the awkwardness of working closely with the big bad Bat. Jason had been eyeing Squinty Stewart for a solid week before the fucker moved half his dealings into Blüdhaven and he _knew_ he’d get some intel at the classy club. Hood would have liked to rush in, usually would, but Squinty Stewart was a slippery bastard and to catch him red-handed required more finesse than was usually required of Jason.  

 

It wasn’t that  he was particularly interested in helping Bruce. No way.  Not even because the man had reached out to him first.  Absolutely not.  Jason just happened to have some free time and be in Gotham too.  

 

Tim emailed an info packet to him shortly after his confirmation text with pictures and highlights, the nerd.  Like a multitasking badass, Jason had read up while packing, so he was more than prepared to see Bruce as a teenager and a crossdressing one at that. It was _karma_ \- it had to be - for all the times Batman had put his Robins in a dress over some bullshit reason. When he’d first read through Tim's email, Jason had spent five minutes laughing till his face was red imagining it. He’d seen pictures of [ Bertha Carrington-Bridgewater ](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F7wvQNbb0Fs/T1t95ChSLVI/AAAAAAAAAPY/9L57vc6sdpo/s1600/Bertha+Carrington+Bridgewater+Wayne.jpg) and Bruce was just this side of too masculine to pull off an attractive female. There was no way Bruce wasn’t anything but lanky and broad as a teen and Jason had made backup plans because bringing “Bertha” into a club like the _Split-Tailed Swallow_ was going to backfire so badly.  He'd have to argue Bruce into it because, knowing the Bat, he'd be dead set on seeing this through himself.  Bruce could be such a stubborn ass at times.  

 

Except he didn’t see Bruce anywhere when he pulled up into the Batcave.  Tim, Damian, and some pretty chick he didn’t recognize were loitering by the exit. Where Bruce had found someone with legs like _that_ , Jason had no clue, but he was confused because he thought they’d have been using a Robin or at least a member of the family. She looked a bit young to be part of the operation, and he felt disgusted that Bruce was recruiting them younger and younger.   _Jesus_ , she didn’t even look like she was in high school, yet her dress and heels were meant to kill.  

 

Jason pulled up by the three and turned his bike around with a skid so that he was facing the exit. When he pulled off his riding helmet and got a clear look at the girl, he barely stopped his jaw from dropping because _holy shit_ that wasn’t some random chick.  That was Bruce.

 

 _“Bruce?!”_ Jason croaked.

 

“You better not have been drinking, Jay-Jay,” Bruce replied, falsetto doing all kinds of shit to Jason. “I’m not Bruce, whoever he is.”  He fucking _pouted_ and Jason would never unsee the way those scarlet lips pursed, the way those dark lashes had fluttered at him.

 

Tim smiled dryly at him. “Jay, meet Cathy, your younger sister for the night. Cathy, please behave.”

 

The dead look in Replacement’s eyes told Jason he wasn’t the only one blindsided. He didn’t even want to look at Damian. The Baby Bat was shell-shocked.  Looked like he’d been told Bruce was his real mother and that Talia had fathered him, like his entire reality was collapsing, and he kept making this weird ass choking noise.

 

Bruce merely smirked in reply, and Jason could have gone his whole life without ever knowing that Brucie’s playboy smirk was transferable on a teenage girl’s face. Damn it, that was the kind of thing that would haunt him for _years._ This was so not fair.  Bruce was supposed to be receiving karma!  Not- not whatever _this_ was! Jason wanted to punch his smug face as much as he kind of maybe wanted to kiss it because the twinkle in those blue eyes gave away just how amused Bruce was by the whole thing.  What a _sadist_.  

 

“Remember to signal when you find Dick,” Tim reminded evenly as Bruce stepped up to Jason’s bike.  He handed Bruce a small comm unit and stabilized the teenage man all in one fluid motion as Bruce straddled the bike.  Jason had to fight down his panic because now Bruce was right behind him.  Like _right_ behind him.   “And please, for Damian and my sanity, keep your seductions to a minimum.”  

 

Bruce chuckled (actually Cathy did because it was entirely in falsetto).  “But Tim, the club’s where you go to have fun.”  Jason could feel him shifting as he put on the black riding helmet Tim handed over, then slender pale arms were wrapping his waist, that tiny silk clutch coming to rest right up against Jason’s abs.  

 

Tim made a face.  “Bruce, you’re a teenager.  You’re technically too young to even be having that kind of fun.”

 

Turning to Jason, Tim had him run over the operation again quickly before handing him a slim black box with instructions to slip it somewhere inconspicuous once inside the club.  From the basic summary he was given, Jason figured the box was some kind of super hacking device Tim had been building.  Its only limitation was distance from the source but with Jay and his ‘sister’ infiltrating tonight, that wouldn’t be a problem.  Jason tucked the device into the inner pocket of his leather jacket before slipping his own riding helmet back on.  

 

Just before he flipped the visor, Tim stared him straight in the eye.   _Look after B.  Don’t let him overdo it.  Good luck_.  Objectively, it should probably be creepy how much Jason got from a simple look, but in the vigilante business (especially those involved with Bat business) learning how to read subtle body language was one of the first skills picked up.  With the number of masks in the community, it was a must-have skill.  Jason gave an almost imperceptible nod in acknowledgement.  

 

Satisfied, Tim herded the Baby Bat back towards the computers while Jason got his bike started up again.  The younger man sent them a farewell wave over his shoulder just before rounding the corner out of sight, leaving Jason and Bruce alone on Jason’s bike.  

 

Like an idiot, Jason made the mistake of glancing down for a second.   _Shit_ Bruce had shaved for tonight. Did he have to notice details like this right before leaving?  Let it not be said the Batman cut corners for his operations and it certainly fit with Cathy’s character.  Regardless, it was hard to reconcile those facts with the storm of emotions stirred from having those smooth legs so close.

 

Just _fuck_ , because it didn’t matter to his body that it was Bruce, not when warm thighs were bracketing his hips and a body was pressed tight to his back. Or maybe it mattered even more that it _was_ Bruce.  Godammit. He had enough issues as it was, he didn’t need the revival of his weird reverse? paternal? opposite Oedipus complex (1) on top of it all. He’d done his time back as Robin; worked through all the inopportune hard-ons, uncontrollable blushing, and mortifyingly erotic wet dreams. Had suffered through years of BatCrush to come out on top on the other side.  Jason fucking Todd was stronger than his feelings and he _would_ make it through this no problem.  

 

Which was easier said than done.  

 

The ride over from Gotham to Blüdhaven had to be the most awkward and harrowing test of will Jason had ever experienced in his life.  Every increase in speed meant a squeeze from behind, and every stop light meant feeling lean thighs flex as Bruce stretched to ward off cramps or, worse, shifted to find a better position. A little over forty minutes to get from the mansion to the club, including finding a concealed parking spot nearby, yet it felt like hours to Jason, who’d spent the whole time focusing intently on the traffic (not Bruce, definitely not him), willing his body to relax.     

 

Bruce was already back on his feet before Jason shut off and locked his bike, heels clicking sharply against the pavement as he tucked his clutch under an armpit so he could remove his helmet.  It was extraordinary how the man...teenager didn’t even have helmet hair.  Those stupidly natural looking extensions simply fell messily around his face, framing it pleasantly, and dusting over his shoulders in such a way that it seemed deliberate.  Freaking ridiculous.  Adult Bruce had cowl hair all the time (which made him stupidly handsome, but it was still stupid and messy looking).  De-aging must have given Bruce strange powers of attractiveness.  

 

Jason had just tucked their helmets into his bike seat and activated the stun mechanism when Bruce looped an arm through his and jerked him under a nearby light.  “Smile, Jay,” Bruce said dryly right before holding up his phone and snapping a selfie. He hadn’t even waited for Jason to comb his hair or anything.  

 

“What the fuck,” Jason sighed. He was so done. “Are you seriously taking selfies _now_?”

 

“Of course,” the teenage man answered. “Alfred insisted.”

 

Jason choked.  “ _Alfred!?”_

 

“You didn’t think he’d let me go out like this without photographic memories of the event, did you?”

 

Jason paused for a moment, considering, but had to concede.  “Well, okay, it’s Alfred, but you’re _complying?”_

 

Bruce’s expression was deadly serious as he expertly tucked his phone back into the tiny clutch he’d brought.  How he even fit it in there was a mystery. “He wants them for the family albums. Says it’s ‘father-son bonding time’.”  

 

Jason loved Alfred, he honestly did, but there was no way on this Earth one could describe their current operation as ‘father-son bonding time’; not when the father looked more like a sister, not when the son was fighting back a hard on like his life depended on it, and not when they were preparing to enter a dubious club known for extorting the local youth.

 

His single consolation, the one thing that kept him from tearing at his hair and backing out completely that instant, was the knowledge that Dick would have it worse than him. _So_ much worse than him.  The man had almost an extra decade more of BatCrush than Jason and he was going to be fucked when Jay and Cathy rescued him.

 

Bruce tugged on his arm again, forcing him to walk toward the street, and Jason physically watched the transformation into Cathy.  Slim hips swayed just a bit more while shoulders relaxed in such a way that they made Bruce appear smaller as a whole.  The intensity of Batman melted away into a strangely bright eyed blink that had Jason feeling like he’d actually brought his sister along to a club.  When Bruce got into character, he seriously _got into character_.  He'd loved watching it happen as Robin, and Jason found it hadn't lost its fascination yet.  

 

“C’mon, Jay-Jay!  You promised me a fun night.” Cathy whined up at him.  

 

Jason allowed himself one last sigh before pulling a smirk onto his face.  He ran his free hand through his hair and grinned down at Cathy.  “Patience, Sis.  Tonight’s gonna be _wild_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one paragraph for Dick, but it's pushing its way into explicit. xD I might just have to skip Dick altogether than subject you to that.
> 
> 1) I googled and it’s an Electra complex when one wants the father. Also, Jocasta complex is when the mother wants the son (which can be expanded to include her children in general).  
> 


	3. There's Finally Some Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He picked up on the third ring after fighting off the temptation not to pick up at all.
> 
> "What do you want?" 
> 
> "Be my sugar daddy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I did NOT realize an entire month has passed since the last chapter. Studying took up so much time and writing "Misuz Nitewing" took up the rest! 
> 
> It didn't help that this chapter fought me on the details every step of the way. ( ಠ◡ಠ ) It's actually shorter than I'd intended, but I'd rather not let you all wait another few days for those last few hundred words! On a positive note: this story actually has a plot now! And a few subplots as well, to keep things spicy. 
> 
> There's a bit of skipping, but we'll return to the night of The Split-Tailed Swallow eventually!

 

He picked up on the third ring after fighting off the temptation to not pick up at all.  “ _Queen, I need you_ ,” was the opener, and Oliver, for the life of him, could not figure out who the fuck was calling him.   

 

“...Who?”

 

“ _Don’t tell me your miniscule brain fails to recognize your mistakes when they come calling_.”

 

It was a familiar voice.  Not deep enough to differentiate if male or female, but high enough to possibly be a youth.  No...not the sound.  The cadence was the familiar part, as was the biting sarcastic-

 

“ _Christ_ , Bruce?!” The blond rolled over and squinted at the display on his bedside table.  6:22AM.   Too goddamn early to be trying to think, let alone have a conversation.  Too goddamn early to be pestered by the infamous Batman.  

 

“ _Who else?_ ”

 

“Dammit, Bruce!” Oliver cursed, groaning into his pillow.  “Do you _know_ how late I slept- no, nevermind.  You probably do, you gigantic creep.”  The sun wasn’t even up yet.  The billionaire (1) could see orange streaking into his bedroom from the floor to ceiling windows.  “And what do you mean ‘ _my_ ’ mistakes!?  I thought we agreed what happened in L.A. was a shared responsibility.”

 

“ _Whether or not they’re my mistakes does not make them any less_ your _mistakes_.”

 

Bruce and his word games.  “Don’t grouse semantics at me.  I’m barely functioning.”  

 

Oliver could hear some shuffling in the background and vague babble.  Bruce talking to one of the fifty million children hidden in his manor, guessing from the high pitches he could hear.   _“Apologies,_ ” Bruce said, all polite which Oliver knew better than to believe was true.   _“Anyway_ , _Queen, I need you tonight .”_

 

Oh hell no.  "What do you want?"  Oliver swore to God, if Bruce was just messing with him, was just calling for some petty favour because of what happened in L.A. he'd hang up then and there.

 

 _“Be my sugar daddy_.”  

 

Ollie choked on his inhale and spent a good five minutes hacking.  Either his hearing was going, or Bruce was pulling his leg.   _Sugar daddy_ ! From a guy who was how many times richer than him? Fuck Bruce Wayne. Just fuck the guy. It really was too early for this shit.  Time to hang up- “ _If you hang up on me, I’ll tell Dinah what really happened in L.A.”_

 

 _"Oh my god,_ you little shit." Oliver heaved a groan and rubbed a palm over his face. "Why the hell do you need me? You know plenty of other high society males. Just bring Nightwing or Red Robin!"

  
  
_"Of course I can't._ ” Bruce scoffed.  He somehow sounded even more critical than usual with his voice higher. _“Their reputations matter to me far more than yours."_

 

  
"Gee, thanks.” Oliver’s voice was completely dry.  “Word of advice, usually you _compliment_ people you want help from.”

  
  
_"Besides,_ ” the de-aged billionaire continued, steamrolling right over Ollie because that’s how Bruce rolled, “ _I require a man who can blend in with the dubious crowd."_

  
  
The blond sighed.  "I'm not even gonna touch that one. You know it’s a backhanded compliment. I know you know."

  
  
_"And I know you know I know."_

  
  
"No, please,” begged Oliver. “Roy and Dinah do that too and I never win."

  
  
There was a moment of silence in which Bruce somehow conveyed how deeply Oliver was being judged without actually making a single sound.  The man could start a class on how to speak without speaking.  It’d make millions, because Bruce _fucking_ Wayne, and then the man would invest it all back in charity. _"It must be a sad life with a brain as tiny as yours."_

  
  
"Bruce, get to the point."  No more reason to try and stay in bed.  Ollie dragged himself up to sitting at the edge of his bed, one hand scratching his back, the other keeping his cell pressed up to his ear.  

 

 _“There’s a sex-trafficking ring I need access to._ ” Bruce explained calm as could be.  “ _Considering my current condition, I’m unable to play the part of interested investor._ ”

 

“I take it I’m to be the interested investor then?”

 

 _“If possible._ ”  Like Ollie was being given a choice.  Bruce’s tone suggested he was way too sure about Oliver agreeing to help.  

 

“What will you be doing then?  Comms?”  Now that he wasn’t supine (2) anymore, a bit of the blond’s brain kicked back in.  “Wait, you said ‘sugar daddy’? Whose-”

 

 _“Mine_.”

 

Maybe his hearing really was going.  

 

“ _Y_ _our hearing is fine_.”

 

Oliver actually pulled his hand back so he could stare at his phone in disbelief.  “Okay, that is pretty freaky, Bruce.  What do you mean ‘ _your_ ’ sugar daddy?”

 

“ _Exactly what I said_ ,” Bruce answered.  “ _I_ _f you agree to this, you’ll be picking up a teenage girl from my manor tonight - one you’ve ‘bought’ from overseas.  You’re thinking of buying another.”_

 

Well then.  If they weren’t friends and Ollie didn’t feel obligated (intimidated) to help, the opportunity to see Bruce in drag probably would have been enough incentive to tag along.  “I’d pay good money to see that.”

 

“ _Lucky you gets a free ticket_ . _I take it this means you’ll be assisting me?”_

 

Oliver scoffed.  Bruce was asking, but the man had to have anticipated Ollie saying yes already.  “Seeing you in a skirt?  Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  Oliver forced his legs to stand, stretching as he made for his bathroom.  “Email me the details, Bats.”

 

He could _hear_ the smirk when Bruce answered _“already have_ ” right before hanging up.  

 

Asshole!  He'd totally anticipated a yes!  

* * *

Three days post operation at the _Split-Tailed Swallow_ , and Bruce was still not back to normal yet. 5’5” and slimmer than Timmy, he cut a much smaller figure prowling around the mansion and cave. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he wasn’t always in a _skirt_.

 

While no one had anything against skirt-wearing, ‘Cathy’ had given everyone but Alfred weird feelings about Bruce doing the wearing. Alfred had dug up an entire wardrobe from who knows where comprised of vintage chic blouses, skirts, and light sundresses.  The old butler had taken so many photos that it felt like the inauguration of a new child to Wayne Manor. Which was sort of what had happened in a way.

 

Even several decades younger and close to a hundred pounds lighter, Batman was not to be deterred. The fact he was a slip of a teenager again only seemed to spur him on actually.

 

“Why are you down here?” Tim asked, exasperated. He stepped further into the cave, over to his work table, and set his tablet down on it. “Your ankle’s still sprained.”  

 

“It’s nearly healed,” Bruce replied.  “No time for a break.  There are five potential human trafficking and-or prostitution rings that I’ve been meaning to infiltrate, and I have less than a week left to get established.” The teenage man sat in the Bat-chair by the main computers, wrapped in a smart black pencil skirt and floral blouse.  His face was deadly serious as he continued to pull up information files on screen, and Tim, not for the first time, felt like he was having an out of body experience because this was so _bizarre_.  

 

Not just because Bruce was cross-dressing more frequently than Tim with alarming calm, but also because he was home so much.  It followed logically - Bruce couldn’t exactly leave the house inconspicuously as he was - but it was still strange to see.  Usually Bruce would be out as Batman if he didn’t have to be out as Bruce Wayne.

 

Speaking of Bruce Wayne, oh boy, had Bruce Wayne's schedule been fucked.  The de-aging had definitely set back some things.  Bruce Wayne was supposed to have appeared at two separate charity events and one movie premiere that week all of which had to be cancelled.  Somehow, Tim didn’t think he particularly minded having to opt out though.  Bruce had looked far too gleeful when he signed off on a ridiculous letter to his secretary that he’d decided to go declaring his sudden need for an impromptu tour of Nepal.   _For spiritual guidance and to ascertain the meaning of his life_ , was what the man had written, if Tim wasn’t mis-remembering.

 

Tim shuffled some papers on his desk absently, matching them with those on his tablet screen. Jason wanted these files, and he’d have to ask Damian for - he grimaced - _help_ decoding these documents.  He could do it himself, but there was a lot to get through and Jason needed them yesterday. Bruce continued to click away the main computer, and the two worked in companionable silence for a time until, like a fidgety moronic child, Tim blurted, “I guess seducing Dick went well?”  

 

What the _fuck_ was wrong with him? Why was he asking that!? Any answer back would likely scar him for life. Insanity? Curiosity? Bruce and Dick had come home five hours after Jason that night. _Five_ hours.   

 

“No,” Bruce sulked.  “Dick wouldn’t try it.”

 

Tim blinked in surprise. He looked away and back again just to check that his eyes were working and he wasn’t hallucinating.  Nope.  Still sulking.  Bruce was _actually_ sulking!  Tim stealthily took a photo.  This was going to the family chat.  

 

“Somehow I’m less shocked than I thought I’d be,” said Tim after stashing his phone back in his pocket.   

 

“Dick’s usually adventurous though…” Bruce trailed off.  He must have been more disappointed by Dick’s refusal of him than he’d let on.  Tim could hear his unspoken questions and read the hesitancy in his body.  ‘Did Dick prefer older partners?’  ‘Did he only want Bruce when the man was physically older than him?’  The real answer was glaringly obvious.  That Bruce was at all worried was incredibly sad, but the man’s insecurities weren't something he could fix.  That was a problem for Dick alone.  What Tim _could_ do was set Bruce right about what Dick wanted because he was pretty sure he knew what Dick’s problem was.

 

“Bruce, you’re like physically twelve right now.” Tim answered dryly.  “You’re nowhere close to the legal age of consent.”

 

“Fifteen,” corrected Bruce, as if he thought Tim had made a mistake and was not being sarcastic. He swiveled to look Tim right in the eye, expression stony.  “But I’m nearly fifty in every other way.  I’d say legal consent is more than given.”

 

Tim hummed.  “It’s still kind of creepy, you know.”  

 

Bruce frowned.  “Dick had no trouble doing the reverse when he was fifteen.”

 

Oh _god_ , that was more than Tim ever wanted to know.  It also explained a few things, like why Bruce was so worried about his desirability to Dick.  The teen shuddered and mimed gagging.  “TMI, Bruce.  T.  M.  I.  I could have lived a happy life without knowing that.”

 

Bruce stared back at him, face serious.  He somehow looked even more severe now, in skirted youth, than he did as an adult.  “You, more than anyone save Alfred, are aware of how Dick and I ended up together.  Why are you surprised?”  

 

“I’m not surprised,” Tim pouted while shuffling files into a pile to bring up with him.  He made a mental note to text Jay that he had what the man wanted, and to check the library or garden for Damian so they could begin decoding a.s.a.p.  Jay would be pissed if they missed an opportunity because of time sensitivity.   “I’m just disgusted because there are some aspects I've guessed and would prefer not to have confirmed. Ever.”  The teen grabbed his tablet and the files in one arm, then used the other to pick up his coffee mug.  “As for Dick’s reluctance…maybe he just feels weird sexing you up when you look more like Damian’s brother than his father.”

 

Bruce had been practically shameless up to this point, but it was _that_ statement which had him pausing.  He was so disturbed at the idea that he stopped talking and turned back to typing.

 

Tim chuckled and made for the stairs.  Bruce was freaked out, but it wasn’t like it was anything new.  The man and his son both had a Dick-shaped soft spot, as much as Dick had a soft spot for Waynes.  And logically, things had to be weird when Damian looked so much like Bruce.  

* * *

Jason had come back to the cave alone after the _Split-Tailed Swallow_ , laughing his ass off, but face pinched in a way that told Tim it'd been a harrowing night for him.  He hadn't renounced relations with the family, but he'd also insisted that they never put him through something like the operation ever again.

 

In the days following, curiosity (and an incessant need to bet) got the better of their household, and the bat kids speculated amongst themselves what exactly Bruce wore underneath all those skirts. Damian and Stephanie were certain he was wearing boxers (or briefs), but Tim and Jason would put money on panties knowing the kind of strange humour and attention to detail Bruce had.

 

“Shouldn’t you know, Todd?” Damian asked. “Father sat right behind you on that bike.”

 

Jason scoffed. “He didn’t sit _that_ close, kid. A million creeps were feeling up the old man at the club; I wasn’t one of ‘em.”

 

Asking Dick had been the definitive test, since no one really wanted to flip Bruce’s skirt to find out.  Their eldest brother had turned so red that he could have passed for Kory's cousin and then ran off without answering.  Damian and Steph took it as a sign that Bruce in panties was too hot a fantasy for him, therefore confirming the wearing of boxers (or briefs).  Tim and Jason took it as a sign that he was _remembering_ seeing Bruce in panties and had to run away before he popped one in front of all his siblings.  

* * *

Dick whistled when Bruce sauntered back into the cave late that evening.  “You’re looking pretty," he commented casually.  Bruce really did, sparse eyeliner and bright lipstick highlighting the sharp features of his face.  The feminine clothing had taken some time to get used to, but Bruce wore them as well as he did anything else.  

 

“Dick,” Bruce greeted. “How are you feeling?”

 

The other man sighed, smiling wearily as he reclined in the Bat-chair. “Fine. Ribs are healing nicely. How’s the ankle?”

 

“Sturdy enough,” Bruce replied.  He walked over to Dick, flats clipping quietly against the cave floor, before draping himself into the man’s lap.  It was a tight fit, but Bruce managed it by tucking his legs up slightly, anchoring himself on Dick’s thighs.  He looped his arms around Dick’s neck and laid his head on the man’s shoulder, exactly the way Dick had done so at fifteen.  

 

“This is revenge isn’t it? For all the times as a kid I used you as furniture.”

 

“I wouldn’t call it revenge,” Bruce teased, squeezing just the slightest.  

 

Dick grinned.  He mimed being crushed, huffing a breath right into Bruce’s ear, making him squirm at the ticklish sensation.  “Oh dear, I’m being flattened!  Help!”  

 

Bruce actually laughed at that.  It wasn’t very loud nor was it long, but it was enough to make Dick’s chest swell with pride.  It used to be so easy, making the Batman laugh, but now it was a feat.

 

“I’m afraid you’ll simply have to endure being flat then,” Bruce responded.  

 

Resigned, Dick leaned back and shifted so that they were situated more comfortably. Despite copying Dick's posture from memory, it was painfully obvious that Bruce had never done this: had never folded himself into someone's space seeking comfort and companionship. If he had, then it was long ago enough that he'd forgotten how to. The teenage man sat too stiffly, close but still tensed.  He was draped intimately, but lacked all the intimacy of such a pose.  Dick rubbed lazily at his hip, encouraging him to relax.  

 

Dick had complained jokingly about Bruce's weight, but honestly he was lighter than Damian. De-aged Bruce had less muscle to show despite being taller, and he was so slim that he sat like a much younger child, perched as he was across Dick’s lap. Incredibly light, like he’d disappear if Dick jerked too suddenly.  

 

"How much of this is you and how much of it is Alfred?" Dick asked, tugging gently at the black pencil skirt. The question had been on his mind since the moment he’d had a spare minute to speculate after being rescued from by ‘Cathy’.   _Golly gee_ , that had been a surprise, seeing her in Blüdhaven.  Cathy and Jason.  

  
"Mostly me,” Bruce answered, picking at the lacy edge of his sleeve. He loosened his hold and leaned back, pale blue gaze fixing against Dick’s.  With the eyeliner, his eyes seemed larger, deeper, and more intense (which was frightening when one considered that Bruce’s gaze was typically quite intense on its own).  "Sometimes I was curious, but I hardly allowed myself to indulge."

 

 _Indulge_.  Like it was something forbidden - a privilege - and for the man who was Batman, perhaps it was.  Dick read a lot out of the statement, but he chose one thing, the most important thing, to address first.  The rest could wait.  

 

"I'm not judging, Bruce." Dick murmured.

 

Bruce stared steadily, testing him, and Dick stared stubbornly back, fighting Bruce down, _proving_ his conviction like he'd always had to.  

 

Bruce’s 'thank you' was smothered up in the kiss he pressed to Dick's lips. He hadn’t quite said it, but Dick could feel it sinking into his skin the way Bruce relaxed just the slightest bit more.  When he pulled back, Bruce allowed himself a moment of admiration for the bright red smear left across Dick's lips just before Dick leaned in to smudge Bruce's handiwork with another kiss - one that left them both breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I fact checked the [relative wealth of Oliver Queen](https://www.quora.com/Who-is-more-rich-Tony-Stark-Bruce-Wayne-or-Oliver-Queen) against this article.  
> 2) Googling to make sure I was using the correct term has led me to learn several things, of which I'll share with you! There are a lot of words for lying down:  
> prone=lying face down  
> prostrate ( _don't_ mix up with prostate! There's an extra 'r')=lying face down, but suggests submissiveness  
>  supine=lying on one's back  
> recumbent=leaning/resting back, like on a couch or reclining bicycle  
> Here are some links for these: [1](http://www.dailywritingtips.com/prone-vs-supine/), [2](http://fandom-grammar.livejournal.com/9371.html)
> 
> I'm also debating retroactively returning to add those few hundred words once I'm done them instead of adding them into the next chapter. Not sure yet. I'll put a note in the story summary if I do! 
> 
> I know it's been awhile, and I hope this chapter wasn't disappointing even though we skipped right over the club.


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